


Tomorrow Might Not Be Here For You

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Hair Kink, M/M, Morning After, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Scent Kink, season 3 fic, slightly rough sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23746147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: Written for the prompt: "are you smelling me?"
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver
Comments: 6
Kudos: 141





	Tomorrow Might Not Be Here For You

The morning light enters the hut slowly. There are still shadows in the corners. There’s no drive to rise yet and for once Flint has little inclination to do so. He finds himself strangely content in bed here with Silver.

Silver, who’s still soundly asleep, one arm thrown over his head, his face turned away from Flint’s. His hair spread messily over their joined pillow. Silver who is still naked underneath the blanket that covers them both. Flint had pulled his shirt back on after they were finished last night. Old habits die hard and even here he intends to be ready in case of attack. But he likes that Silver is different, that he feels safe enough to sleep bare beside Flint, that he even leaves the metal leg off now, discarded at the foot of the bed.

Flint turns his head so that his face rests closer to Silver’s curls and breathes in the scent of him. Silver smells of the sea, understandably, even though they’ve been at the camp for over a week this time. He smells of sweat too, also understandably. Flint can’t remember the last time Silver joined them at the bathing pool. Silver usually satisfies himself with washing privately in the hut. Flint had thought he had accepted the realities of his leg by now, but there are still moments such as this that he realizes he’s mistaken. Silver still needs privacy in some things and Flint has to let him have it.

There’s also the scent of the oil that Silver uses to soothe his leg, a faded bitter ointment that reminds Flint of flowers pressed into books, long preserved memories held captive between brittle pages. He watches Silver rub the oil into his stump every night before bed. It’s a familiar sight by now and yet Flint still finds it as intimate as the first time Silver ever performed the act in front of him.

He moves closer to Silver, tracing his bare shoulder with his thumbnail as he buries his face deeper in Silver’s curls. It’s not enough. These quiet mornings with Silver after the long fervent nights in the dark. He rests his face at the base of Silver’s spine as he smells his skin, all of those different scents mingling to simply make up the essence of Silver. A perfume that Flint fears he will crave for the rest of his natural life.

He closes his eyes and sighs the quietest of sighs as his palm brushes a slow path down Silver’s slumbering shoulder. It has been over a month since this started. There is no knowledge of how long it will last. Whether they can sustain it once they’re back regularly at sea. But he wants to. He wants Silver to remain at his side, closer than before.

It terrifies him. This realization that crept up on Flint in the night like a ghost. That he cared for Silver far more than he had ever intended to do. Not that he had ever intended to care for Silver in any regard. If you had asked Flint that the first day he set eyes on Silver, would he ever love the man before him, he would have sworn no immediately.

Well. It would have been a broken oath.

He feels Silver stir faintly against him and yet he can’t bring himself to pull away. His hand remains on Silver’s hip where it ended.

“Flint.” Silver murmurs sleepily.

“Yes?”

“Are you…smelling me?” Silver turns his head slightly so he can look at him.

“What of it?” Flint says in response.

He lets his hand drift over Silver’s thigh and Silver raises an eyebrow. “I thought we had a meeting with the crew this morning.”

“Time enough for that after.” Flint murmurs. His hand closes over Silver’s cock and he gives it a long deep stroke. He watches Silver’s face as he does, watches the way his eyelashes flutter against his eyes as he struggles not to moan in response.

Flint can hold back no longer. He pulls the blanket off Silver and slides down between his thighs.

Silver turns on his back, bracing himself on his elbows as he watches Flint take him in his mouth. One hand reaches for Flint, fingertips grazing over his scalp.

Flint knows what he’s thinking.

Silver had once let slip while drunk how he wished they had fucked while Flint’s hair was long. “I wanted to run my hands through it so much.” He bemoaned over his rum.

It had made Flint roar with laughter in spite of himself. But he had never admitted that he understood the urge. That his hands seek Silver’s hair every time their bodies are joined; the need to tug and hold and claim those dark curls rising up like a tidal wave within himself.

Now he presses his fingers into Silver’s skin as he sucks him, digging deep as though he’s trying to hold on to him when Silver hasn’t even tried to go anywhere. But he will. One of these days he will realize this life is not for him. In spite of the way the crew has welcomed him in and in spite of the way he has a place here, and in spite of the way he possesses a place inside Flint’s chest, a place carved with lies and betrayal, with schemes and plans and the most tentative kiss Flint had ever felt in his life. He had thought he was dreaming the first time Silver kissed him. Sometimes Flint thinks he’s dreaming still.

He feels rather than hears Silver’s groan overhead, guttural and low and he feels himself hardening in response. He moves up on his knees, pushing Silver’s thighs further apart to make space for him.

Flint draws off for a moment to spit on his fingers before lowering his head again. He pushes the tips of two fingers inside Silver while he teases the head of his cock.

Silver squirms under his touch, legs held open by Flint’s knees. There’s a bead of sweat in the hollow of his throat and Flint wants to lick it from his skin.

He presses deeper, watching Silver spread his legs even wider for him, even as he grunts faintly from the intrusion.

This too is still new to him. The first time Flint had pressed him down upon the pallet hungrily, kissing his throat and his chest and his mouth, now that he could indeed kiss him so, he’d not expected Silver to be prepared. To have thought ahead in advance for this. So he wasn’t surprised when he had asked for oil and Silver had shaken his head.

It had been momentarily awkward to rise from the bed and have to go seek some. There had been a brief hesitation when Flint returned to the hut. He had paused at the door, the small bottle in his hand, wondering if he should turn back now. But then he had pushed the door open and found Silver waiting for him.

He'd gotten undressed during Flint’s absence and was half sitting, half reclining on the bed, the thin blanket drawn up loosely over his hips. The metal leg rested against the bed, within easy reach if Silver needed it.

“I thought it’d be easier off.” He started, then, “I can put it back on if you prefer.”

“I prefer you like this.” Flint closed the door, leaning against it. He should go over to Silver. But for a moment he wanted to stand here and drink in the sight of Silver waiting for him.

Silver leaned back against the headboard, gazing back at him. The lantern overhead cast a soft golden glow over his bare chest. “I take it you like what you see?”

“Yes.” Flint said simply. The oil was clutched tightly in his grasp.

Slowly, Silver pulled back the blanket and let it fall to one side. He drew his good knee up, resting his arm on it as he looked at Flint. “What are you waiting for then?”

And Flint had gone to him.

* * *

Now, he reaches for the oil, slicking his fingers before returning them to Silver’s body. Silver’s dying to come. Flint can feel it in the tremors of his body, the tightness of his chest, the short, needy groans he makes as Flint fucks him with his fingers.

Flint takes one last lick of his cock and lets it bob free.

Silver makes a moan of protest and Flint reaches for his legs, lifting them slightly, tilting Silver’s hips as he enters him. Every thrust inside Silver is deep and long. Flint feels Silver react, his back arching, his hands clutching at the bedclothes, his head thrown back across the pillow, his mouth open with need.

Flint lets his hands slide underneath to cup Silver’s buttocks, thrusting deeper and deeper, until Silver’s shuddering with the force of it, his back arching higher and higher.

“Come for me.” Flint growls, fingers squeezing hard into Silver’s bare flesh. He wants that scent too, here on both their bodies.

Silver obeys almost immediately, cock jerking in tight throbbing jerks. He spills over his own stomach and legs, splattering across Flint’s shirt and legs as well. His body goes limp under the release of it.

Flint feels his body responding in kind, letting himself spill inside Silver until he goes still. And yet he lingers a moment, unwilling as ever to end this, to withdraw from Silver’s body.

When he does so at last, Silver raises an arm in invitation.

Flint lets himself be drawn down beside him. He doesn’t complain about the mess drying on their skin, doesn’t care about any of it. He lets himself press into the curve of Silver’s shoulder, lets his arm rest over Silver’s chest. Lets Silver whisper soft words into his skin.

The good moments in life are so painfully short. Flint gazes at Silver as he turns his head. He won’t seek the end of this any sooner than he has to. He doesn’t need to know the day or the hour. He needs only to know Silver wants it now, wants him. That is enough. He leans in and presses his mouth to Silver’s, waiting a beat, as always, until Silver kisses him back.


End file.
